


Warm Shadows, Darker Flame

by AvidReader3019



Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beast Wirt, Character Death In Dream, Codes & Ciphers, I'm Bad At Summaries, Magic Dipper Pines, Mentioned Bill Cipher, Poetry, Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReader3019/pseuds/AvidReader3019
Summary: What if Wirt had never left the Unknown and became the new beast but before he could sort it out a newcomer arrives in the Unknown? A self proclaimed expert on all things paranormal who maybe gets more than he bargains for after messing with magic he doesn't quite understand. Can they help each other adjust to their new reality and maybe mess with some magic along the way?
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66
Collections: Over The Gravity Falls





	1. And So It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to wait until I finished writing the entire thing to post this, but with everything going on right now I know that at least for me personally, writing and reading is really what's keeping me going, so I decided to go ahead and put this out there a chapter at a time from now on despite my original plans and hopefully it'll work out.

Dipper and Mable had returned to Gravity Falls a few weeks prior with Dipper taking up Stanford’s now abandoned role of making sure the unexplained remained that way. For now he was wandering through the forest scanning through one of his journals trusting that he knew the way well enough to not be looking, when he tripped over a large branch in the path and everything fades to black. 

Dipper finds himself walking in a clearing, now covered in snow and ice. “Wait this isn’t-” He is interrupted by the sound of a voice somewhere nearby, although he can’t see anyone through the darkness. “How did I? Where _am_ I?" His breathing becomes more labored and he spins around wildly deciding to find the voice hoping it isn’t one of a homicidal lunatic and see if he can find out where he is. He steps quietly around the trees shivering in the cold winter air thinking that it surely couldn’t be this cold in the middle of summer, but he’d seen weirder stuff right? He then hears a low, soft voice echoing through the trees.

_“Be silent in that solitude,_

_Which is not loneliness—for then_

_The spirits of the dead who stood_

_In life before thee are again_

_In death around thee—and their will_

_Shall overshadow thee: be still.”_

It sounds unbearably distraught, but it can't be coming from someone much older than him so he decides to investigate. He follows the sound through the dense, dark forest, barely able to see through the fog until he comes to a clearing where he spots the source of the voice a… a gnome? But taller than the ones he was used to; this one looked to be about half a foot taller than himself and was holding some sort of axe in his right hand and a lantern in the left which was the only source of light nearby. The gnome was pacing back and forth in front of a large tree with some sort of black sab dripping off of it, muttering to himself, the poem apparently finished. He kept pausing to raise the axe just to let it fall to his side again and resume pacing so Dipper decided to announce his presence. “Uh hello!” He gave a nervous wave as the gnome yelped, dropped both the lantern and the axe, and whipped around. For a split second, Dipper would have sworn his eyes were glowing but he dismissed that thought for later. He walked a little closer to the gnome, person? Upon closer inspection he looks human but his hat was just like Jeff’s. It would require further investigation, but for now… “Sorry for scaring you.” The figure was trying to calm his breathing and looked extremely confused before speaking. “How did you find me? This is far from any towns I’m aware of.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “Well I heard someone talking from pretty far that way.” He gestured back the way he came. “So I decided to check it out, hoping whoever it was might be able to tell me how to get home.” Dipper spares a glance at the axe before looking back up.

The boy finally makes eye contact and Dipper notices that the glowing he thought he saw was because his eyes seemed to be reflecting light like a cat’s. He gestures to the woods around them and speaks with a hint of bitterness. “Look, I don’t know how you got here, but I don’t want to be doing this, okay? So tell your village that when you get back and I would really appreciate it. I have yet to even cut down a single tree and it looks like I won’t be doing it tonight either. Just go home. I’m not going to hurt you. I'm not the “beast” as it were, though most don’t believe me I don’t know why I try. If you _really_ do need help I can try my best although I’m still not sure where everywhere is yet.” 

Dipper looks around them. The shadows seemed to inch closer moving forward like spindly fingers, but it had to be a trick of the light. Shadows didn’t move like that, or at all, really. He faced the boy once more. “Beast? I don’t know- I can’t find my way home. That's why I’m here in the first place. Yours is the first light I’ve seen in hours.”

The boy straightens and assesses him more closely, noting the modern clothing and baseball cap. Things he had never seen in the unknown until this point other than him and his younger brother. “Wait when did you get here? Do you remember what happened just before you were here in this forest?”

Dipper thought back to wandering, reading the journal, losing his footing and experiencing pain and then darkness… Then he was here. His hands started trembling and he swallowed nervously. “I was walking through the forest studying my journal trying to find some creatures. I don’t even remember which kind, but I think I tripped over a branch and then next thing I knew I was walking towards here and heard a voice, so I followed it to this light.” He gestures to the lantern.

The boy comes closer and holds him by the shoulders in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring but came across as more awkward than anything. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Tons of people end up here and then find their way back home. It's just the helpless and lost that remain, I’m sure you’ll be fine...”

“I just need to know how to get back, so if you could give me some directions that would be great.”

“I should be able to get you home. I think that’s within my powerset? Probably. I’ve done it before now but only once. I don’t remember exactly how I did it last time either but I could figure it out. It can't be too hard making a portal into an entirely different plane of existence.” He stops abruptly to watch the younger boy who had been shivering in the cold and was now bending over to pick up the lantern. Dipper grabs it, hoping to return it to its owner and it begins to glow brighter, not yellow like before, but a brilliant blue that increases in heat rapidly. Dipper’s head feels like it’s splitting down the middle before he passes out unconscious onto the snow. 

**********

Wirt tries to shake the kid awake to no avail. “Hey, kid? Hey, wake up!” After several minutes of this he carries the unconscious child to his house... settlement? Not-at-all-permanent but just somewhere-to-feel-the-slightest-bit-human-again residence. It was a one room building in the middle of the forest made of crudely chopped wooden planks and gave him a place to have some time semi-away from the forest. As away as he seemed to be able to get without a feeling of _wrongness_ throughout his body. He placed the kid on a bed of thick moss and leaves he had managed to gather in the far right corner of the room. Once he woke up they could talk about who he was and how to get him back to wherever he came from, but for now… He glanced at the poetry book in the corner and started reading half-heartedly spending more time thinking about what he had just done. He had never asked for this curse, and couldn’t help but wonder why he was punished for helping. He couldn’t let that vile creature ruin any more lives than they already had, so he stopped him and his reward was having his soul shoved in a lantern and a lifetime having to turn people into trees, maybe an eternity he wasn’t sure. Luckily, he hadn’t needed oil yet, or at least didn’t know how to tell if he did. He just didn’t know if he could stomach the idea of chopping those people up and grinding them to feed the lantern, surely he would never find out. As for the kid... he intrigued him; he hasn’t seen someone new in the near month he’s been there filling in his new role, but something had recently shifted. The wind has been a bit colder, the plants less vibrant, and they called to him for help, or he thought they did at first. It was… unnerving to say the least, to hear over a thousand tiny voices silently screaming when you don’t even know _how_ or worse _if_ you’re hearing those voices at all? He decided that he hadn’t and that the last shreds of his sanity were finally leaving him. If you’ve finally, finally lost your mind in this hell with no exit, save for those who earn a way out? He was a demon now and here he would remain, his hell, his _domain…_ As his dreams so often reminded him. One he never asked for and didn’t want, but did anyone? He can’t help but wonder if the last beast enjoyed his task or if he despised it as much as he does and that is why he became the monster Wirt knew him as. Would he become a monster as well? Given enough time he would likely break and it would be foolish and arrogant to think that he wouldn’t… One of the pages rips slightly, startling him before his thoughts could any darker, another aftereffect of this cursed existence he was sure.That and the near constant exhaustion he had been experiencing for nearly a week now. Thinking in circles about how doomed and miserable he was while in substantial pain was surely another ploy to get him to go get oil just to have _something_ to do but he wouldn’t fall for it. He had to stay strong. He will eventually die and then someone else can take on this burden. The kid though, if he can help him like he helped Greg maybe that would redeem him the smallest bit? Just enough to die with something good on his conscience.

The kid stirs and Wirt walks over, clutching the lantern tightly to the side of his chest and away from the child. He attempts to appear less threatening, but he can’t seem to turn off the too-bright reflection of his eyes or the just unnerving feeling he stirs in people by just being there. He embodies the darkness and stuff of nightmares and there seems to be no fixing it, well, not by him anyway, but being right there in front of the kid when he woke up was at least better than freaking him out from the corner, right?

**_**********_ **

Dipper jerks awake in a small room. His head is pounding but he ignores it in favor of taking in the surroundings. To his left is a roaring fireplace with a grand piano just on the opposite wall. Oddly enough, next to the piano is a small end table with an old fashioned gramophone playing something that he can’t quite make out.

He stands, once again ignoring the protesting of his everything and stumbles over. It's old, but polished, well taken care of. He leans down near the speaker and realizes they're not words at all, just... gibberish. His brow furrows and he tries flipping the record over, but as soon as he does it stops. He pushes it down, thinking maybe it wasn't pressed in all the way, but falls backward when it screams

“f̵̺͠l̴̉͝í̵̎p̴͘̕ ̸̼͊b̸͒̃ạ̸͊c̷̀̀k̸̒̅ ̸̛̳o̴̊̇v̵̧͌ē̵̊ṙ̵̓” 

It's layered and echoing in the small room and Dipper scrambles to comply with the demand, just wanting it to stop. If his head was pounding before, now it's splitting him in half. He, with shaking hands, manages to flip the disk and all goes quiet once again. His ears ring for a while and he stares at the opposite wall until the sound of garbled speech comes back.

Dipper frowns and starts pacing how the hell is he supposed to figure out--

Of course.

Dipper turns the player to off and winds the record back himself listening to it backwards this time and the gibberish becomes something intelligible. “The veil has finally lifted!” is chanted over and over again and Dipper realizes something is.. off about the voice. He slowly begins to speed up his pace on the record. What started as a low menacing voice gets higher in pitch with each chant and as it reaches an unnervingly high echo Dipper's blood goes cold as a loud laugh is heard echoing throughout the room. A laugh that he swore he would never have to hear again.  
He scrambles backward, knocking over the painting behind him which he barely glimpses before he runs out of a door that wasn’t there earlier, he's sure of it, and onto a four lane highway. He turns back to face the building, but... it’s gone. In it's place is just another lane of the highway. His breathing quickens and he starts pulling at his hair, readjusting his cap. He knows he needs to get off the road so he doesn’t get steamrolled by incoming traffic, but there doesn't seem to be anyone on the road, so he stays. He counts back from fifty, trying to regulate his breathing, trying even harder not to think of the voice he just heard... Once he can breathe again without wanting to gulp down air he picks a direction and goes straight.

As he walks, the environment slowly shifts around him, subtly. He begins on a standard highway in the city and the asphalt turns to cobblestone reminiscent of an old colonial alleyway. He watches the stone crumble and grind underneath him into gravel forming a road in the countryside which slowly gives way to a dirt path in a forest that he instinctively knows is Gravity Falls, somehow. He doesn't question it.

The forest then shifts. The road remains the same, but the surroundings pale from their previously vibrant colors to an oppressive darkness and fog that he knows must belong to the unknown forest he currently resides in, wait, currently? Where is he?

He keeps going forward ignoring the thought and notes that the layout of this forest is the same twisted paths and marked trees from home... Right down to the old signs pointing toward the Mystery Shack. Signs he put up years ago. Ones that led him on the path he's on right now.  
Wind blows through the trees ominously and what has to be a trick of the light, causes the knobs in the trees to look down on him like watchful eyes. Dipper hurries down the path, reaching a small clearing, carved narrower by trees with a glowing, fiery blue portal in the center. He approaches with cautious steps and his breath catches.

Just in front of the portal is… himself. His double wears a wicked grin and immaculate suit jacket that, despite the time that has passed, causes his blood to turn to cement in his veins. Seeing his own body in front of him was something he hoped to never repeat, not after the last time, but this one looks slightly different from himself. The birthmark on his forehead is clearly visible as the points are glowing a vibrant yellow-white with a blue, glowing line connecting the points of the constellation.

His steps halt about five feet away and he can’t help but stare at the lantern in his double's hands. It's the same lantern he had found earlier that evening? A previous day? Another lifetime? It all feels hazy, but the lantern is still glowing with that weird eerie light. 

He doesn’t have time to react before the double smashes that light into his skull repeatedly until his vision blacks out from pain, from shock for only a millisecond before returning, but from a very different perspective. 

He is staring down at his own pounded-in skull, blood warm and sticky running down his fingers. His birthmark burns and he can feel where the broken glass split open his, no, the double's knuckles while he hit him repeatedly with the lantern. He starts to panic but before he can work himself up, a calm delight washes over him despite his attempts to fight off the feeling.  
It's... unnerving. Feeling such a good emotion due to such a gruesome event. To see carnage and feel nothing but detached amusement and a vague enjoyment of the blood on his hands... literally. That thought makes a sob bubble up in his throat... or maybe a laugh? Yeah... Why be upset at the pain when you can have fun with it instead? Wait no that's not--

Dipper is punched with the distinct knowledge that he has never felt any different and attempts to force himself to feel an sort of negative emotion... Guilt, grief, anger, frustration, but to no avail as he can't remember how the emotions really felt. 

He numbly turns to the portal and it flickers into a mirror with a note taped to the front of it that reads “Ipvw bj alpb lsn sigdur my psy rwaxbeyi dv glbj teip. Vx bj csjz aemlvi, qcg rtkyvt knr uv jsjoux pzxl penvxeiwh iah tjwmhbnrvv.'' 

The parchment is quickly absorbed back into the portal and he steps through. There is the sensation of falling for at least a minute that feels like years. He feels the urge to scream just because he can, loudly announce his presence to the uncaring void, but violently forces the urge down and hits the ground with a soft thump and a pain in his limbs that he knows is completely inconsequential. He smiles at the newfound ability to not die after falling from what had to be several stories at least, and looks down at the ground to see that there isn’t a “ground” at all. 

He seems to be standing on nothing? There must be some sort of invisible bridge or mechanism or magic or... Regardless, it makes him apprehensive to take a step for fear of falling, not because of the potential pain, but of the waste of time it is to fall that long and have to get back up here.  
When one step forward doesn’t prove to be his demise he really takes in the surroundings. There are splashes of color everywhere. Brilliant purples and vibrant greens and colors human eyes can’t even detect but wait I'm human-- and yellows that remind him of what the sun looked like upon formation. He doesn’t question these thoughts anymore, just accepts them. 

There are more portals, as well, everywhere. Along with swirling clouds of glitter that remind him of his sister, interspersed with pockets of glowing matter that can’t be safe to be around but he goes close anyway. There are pulsating clouds of shimmering color like oil directly under sunlight and a pink/red/purple intertwining foam that wraps around every part of the area.

Dipper walks around for what feels like hours staring at impossibilities and optical illusions and secrets he can't quite comprehend... yet until he comes to a throne that fills him with a sick nostalgia. His stomach churns even with his newfound apathy and he approaches it, but runs face-first into a bubble that causes his body to fill with pain again and he giggles until his vision whites out. 

He starts getting flashes, like on an old television screen: Him and Mable hunting for cryptids in the woods; a beast with large antlers, a smooth voice, and a bright lantern; a tapestry of an old village burning that he knows he’s seen before and can’t place; a painting of a key; eyes in the dark with slitted pupils that flash white under light; a single finger placed over lips; A yellow, triangular warning sign with the words “L'p Dozdbv Zdwfklqj”; and finally, a statue of a triangle he wishes he could forget, hand outstretched, with runes carved into the base different from any he’s ever seen before. Then it all goes black.

Dipper slowly opens his eyes to a dimly lit room and tries to sit up, but is stopped by the raging pain in his skull and a pressure on his chest that feels like a … a hand? 

“You might want to wait a little bit to get up. You've been out for a while now.”

He knew that voice, but… _where am I?_

The forest. The creepy vines and the lantern. Right. What was his life even?

He blinked his eyes open once again and tried not to startle at the image before him. Nearly glowing eyes reflecting what little light was coming from the lantern and shadows cast about the rest of the room that all seemed to be writhing and wanting to crawl over to the boy’s form. He clears his throat and tries not to stare at them. “How long?”

The figure in front of him shrugs. “Couple hours? Maybe a day? I’m not quite sure time doesn’t really work consistently here.”

Dipper sits back up and succeeds this time, swallowing down the pain. “Right. Would you care to explain to me where exactly here is and who you are and how I can get home? Also why did I pass out? It happened when I touched that lantern. Is it enchanted or something?”

The boy rubs the back of his neck and looks down. “Yeah I guess I didn’t really explain anything, huh? Well okay first thing’s first. My name is Wirt and this is a forest in the Unknown? It’s a sort of dimension in between life and death I think? As for the lantern I have no idea why it made you pass out, but it is sort of enchanted?” He somehow looks even more uncomfortable and takes several steps backward. The shadows move with him and succeed in crawling further up his silhouette as if his sudden agitation allows them to become more clingy. Dipper ignores this in favor of trying to interpret the information.

“Okay that’s a lot to take in. You can call me Dipper. I sort of investigate all things paranormal back home and- wait what do you mean by ‘ _sort of_ enchanted’?”

Wirt takes a look at the lantern and sighs. “It’s a long story, but the short of it is that my… well my soul is in that lantern and if I keep it lit then I stay alive. The second that flame dies, I go with it.” 

His eyes finally do dim at that and Dipper realizes that maybe it wasn’t just reflection after all… _He can’t be human or a gnome even, but what is he? People don’t have their souls removed from their bodies! Wait I did, but that’s not the point. He hasn’t tried to kill you yet so just go with it._ He still has his journal for reference if something happens. “Wait so let me get this straight. You just let a complete stranger pick up your literal soul. How stupid is that!? It was just on the ground. What if I had dropped it and the flames came out or-”

“It doesn’t work like that. I’m a clumsy guy and it seems to be picky about how it’s put out.”

“What do you mean?”

“There seem to only be two ways to do it: not putting enough oil in the lantern or if someone else deliberately blows it out. I tried blowing it out myself to see what would happen…” He shivers at the memory it had been about two weeks after he helped Greg home and he wasn’t taking to this whole thing that well. Still wasn’t honestly. “It wouldn’t go out. My next step was to see if the oil thing was true or if he was lying about that as well…”

Dipper nods and winces at the pain it causes, putting his hand to his forehead. He then realizes that the headache doesn't feel much like a headache at all. The pain increased when he touched his forehead meaning it had to be a surface level injury and it seemed like more points of pain rather than one big area. He checks to see if his hand comes back bloody, but it’s fine.

Wirt comes back closer and tries to take a look, but is immediately uncomfortable being so close without knowing the kid very well. “Are you hurt? Well I mean I know you’re _hurt_ , but I guess what I mean is are you still in pain from before? I caught you before you hit the ground too hard so I assumed you would be fine, but I’m not exactly a doctor. I don’t even know if there are any doctors here come to think of it. If there are any I haven’t met them I could try-”

Dipper holds up a hand and looks at him with eyebrows raised as a very clear “Stop” Wirt immediately stops and backs away deciding that the floor is particularly interesting to look at while Dipper takes his hat off and feels under his hair for where he knows his birthmark is. As soon as he touches one of the points of the constellation his whole head bursts with pain. “Ah!” He doubles over and after a few minutes motions Wirt over who has now gotten the shadows s worked up they are wrapped tightly around him so that from the chest down he appears just a silhouette. It would be almost scary if he didn’t look so worried and unsure. A living mass of writhing shadows, but currently he just looks like a scared kid wrapped in their favorite blanket wanting to help, but knowing they probably shouldn’t touch anything. 

Dipper motions him over again and walks towards the door. “Is there a lake or some sort of water nearby? I don’t see any mirrors and I’d like to take a look myself.”

Wirt nods and as the tension dissipates, the shadows back away leaving Dipper looking back at the not quite human figure he had met originally and a mental note to ask about what exactly he _was_ on the way. Wirt grabs his lantern following him to the door. “Yeah there’s one not far from here. A mirror would have been my first choice as well, but the only ones I know of are pretty far away.”

“Let’s go then.” With that they walk out of the door and into the cold, misty night.


	2. Wirt has an existential crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt has a hard time with there being no oil in the lantern and a kid who asks more questions than he wants to hear.

“So then I was back here in this dark wood with nothing but a creepy lantern and the knowledge that this time I wouldn’t be going home. It was for the best though I think.” Wirt absentmindedly kicks a rock in the path and shrugs. “I mean I didn’t have many plans and “penniless poet” isn’t exactly a great career choice. The forest needed someone to tend to it and since I was the one that caused all of the decay in the first place I had to step in.”

Dipper nods and scribbles down more notes in his journal. “Debatable since the guy before you literally killed a bunch of people and all you did was get rid of him.”

Wirt shakes his head. “This forest… it’s alive in a way. It has to have someone to tend to it else it’ll fall into ruin. All the people here would be lost. The beast killed a bunch of people and used them to build up his power, but he at least kept the place from being destroyed. I don’t know how I’m going to do that”

“Maybe I could help.”

Wirt’s eyes widen and he stops turning to face Dipper. “What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ I investigate this kind of thing all the time, so I probably know more than you do about the supernatural and could help you figure out exactly what your role is.”

“You really don’t have to do that I mean I can figure it out and it’s not really that big a deal anyways.”

“It _is_ a big deal since your literal soul depends on it. Now tell me: what do you know about what you can do?”

Wirt looks up for a moment and his eyebrows furrow. “Well I when I grabbed the lantern and it lit I could feel my soul getting removed in a way? I don’t know how to describe it. I'm just always cold now? And I definitely feel taller, that could just be a growth spurt though. I don’t really know of anything else. I was always more of a night owl so that's nothing new...” Wirt trails off and watches the kid next to him write things down trying to think of anything else helpful. What if this wasn’t even real? What if he had made it all up in his head to cope with the fact that he got lost in the woods forever with no way out and his soul was fine and intact, but it was his sanity that was lost. What if he just made Dipper out from being lonely, how long had he even been here it had just been a couple weeks, right? A voice startled him back to reality. Or what he _assumed_ was reality. 

“Wirt you alright?”

“Yeah just thinking of anything else I guess… Oh and I’m supposed to turn people into trees in order to sustain my seemingly immortal soul, but you already knew that.”

Dipper hums thoughtfully and makes some more notes. “We need to figure out a way to make oil without having to make those trees then.”

Wirt sighs. “I wish it were that simple but it’s the only way.”

Dipper looks up from his notebook back up at Wirt. “Wait. You said you went into this whole thing with no knowledge, right?”

Wirt looks confused, but answers “Yes, why?”

“Then how do you know that’s the only way?”

“Well because-” He is shocked at the question and tried to think back to when he had come to that realization, but was met with a sort of wall of shadow in his mind. Pushing against it caused pain and voices he didn’t want to think about. “Well I just- I mean- I don’t really… It’s a feeling I guess? An instinct almost?”

Dipper presses forward with the feeling that he’s hiding something. “Come on Wirt I don’t buy that. How do you know? Was there a manual that came with this whole thing? Probably not since you don’t understand what’s going on, but then, how Wirt? Are you just making it up to make yourself feel better?”

Wirt’s eyes change from the dim white glow Dipper attributed to the reflection of the moon to three blue, yellow, red concentric rings that would be all too familiar for Wirt if he could see it. “No! Of course not! I would never do this on purpose! I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t _want_ to be invaded by the very thing I had tried to destroy. I just know, okay!?” All the shadows rush up his form, hiding any details in inky blackness.

Dipper takes an alarmed step back at the outburst and puts his hands up in a hopefully non-threatening gesture. “Hey man I was just asking. You wanted me to help you, remember?” 

As quickly as it began it was over. Light reveals Wirt once again and he looks even more alarmed than Dipper as he flashes back to when he had been in Dipper's shoes in this exact situation not too long ago. Greg dying and those eyes filled with hatred only a creature of pure darkness could conceive of. That voice that called to him to just give up and _submit…_ He shudders. “I don’t- I’m not sure what just-” His hands are trembling more and more causing him to drop the lantern. “I’m sorry I don’t even know how I- Did I do that? Of course I did that. I'm just like him, he's still here. I was an idiot to think I could get rid of him, but now he’s _inside_ me and I can’t- It’s so much worse than I thought.” Wirt realizes there are hands on his shoulders and he had gotten to the ground at some point.

“Hey hey take it easy. Breathe with me okay? In, out, in, out, in...” After a few minutes of this Wirt finally calms down and Dipper stands back up offering him a hand up which he takes gladly.

Wirt sways and his eyes droop as he stands. “Th-Thanks for that. Sorry.”

“No problem, but could you explain what happened? I mean I have so many questions right now! How did you do that!? Is that why the shadows follow you around? And your _eyes_ man that was insane!”

Wirt looks around nervously. “I uh I had no idea I could even do that, but I guess it makes sense. The beast when he killed my… when he almost…” He sighs and takes a long, deep breath in and then out. “His eyes were just these multicolored rings as everything went dark, the only visible thing in the darkness. It was like watching your hope get physically ripped away, but I didn’t _mean_ to do anything like that. I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t try to be like that monster, it’s never happened before. I don’t know why now...” He looks everywhere except Dipper’s eyes and his voice lowers to an almost indiscernible volume that wouldn’t have been heard if the forest wasn’t dead silent. As if it was holding its breath from the display. “Maybe you’re better off to go on without me, so I don’t accidentally turn you into a tree or something.”

Dipper puts his hands out in front of him in an x-ed out ‘no’ gesture. “Nuh uh. No way. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And what do you mean you’ve never done anything like that? I watched you do the shadow thing earlier in the building.”

Wirt’s eyebrows furrow at the kid and he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. The only supernatural things I’ve caused is putting my soul in that lantern and then whatever that was just now. Now go away before something else happens.” His voice has an exhaustion that takes away the bite the words would have carried and he leans against a nearby tree closing his eyes. He needed to think and stay away from everyone like he had been before Dipper showed up.

Dipper grabs the lantern off the ground and strides over to Wirt, now noticing a crack in the bottom that was allowing the oil to spill out rapidly. He looked from it back to Wirt who he noticed was shivering and looked nearly translucent in the light. He thinks back to their earlier conversation. ‘ _The second that flame dies, I go with it.’_ Dipper runs over to Wirt and shakes his arm attempting to wake him up.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“No listen, the lantern got cracked and now it doesn’t have any more oil I think that’s why all that happened. Where do you keep oil for this thing?”

Wirt tries to sit up, but fails, instead settling for raising his head a bit and blinking his eyes open. “There isn’t any oil. I told you I refuse to make people into oil. I won’t do it. I won’t become him, if I do, then what was even the point?”

Dipper slaps a palm against his face. “Of course you didn’t! That would be too easy.” Dipper sighs and rolls his eyes as Wirt cringes. “I’m going to go back to the tree to get some of that magic oil wood, but you’re going to have to stay awake long enough for me to get it back here, so you can do whatever it is you need to do with it okay? Just hold on!” With that Dipper runs into the forest back where they came.

Wirt lays back against the tree and with no energy or warmth left he submits to the call of darkness.

When he opens his eyes it’s to the forest on a starless night. The wind around him is biting cold and he wraps his cloak tighter around himself. The trees sway in the wind and he walks towards them knowing that he has nothing else to do anyways. He’s a lot like these trees swaying, drifting without any sort of rhyme or reason, just cast adrift by the cold, winter wind. As he gets closer he can make out more of the details of the bark and the individual branches which he runs his hands on as he passes. He walks for an indeterminate amount of time before coming upon some light in the form of the moon, finally out from behind the clouds, displaying a clearing. A person is standing in the center of the light with their back to Wirt who then looks down and finds the lantern in his hand, empty. He starts singing as the beast before him did, just knowing the words and exactly how to do it, watching the vines surround the figure and pull them into their tight embrace. There’s a small, unwanted twinge of pride at the healthy tree when he finishes the song. He proceeds to the next step swinging the axe, _wait when did that get here?_ , and cuts the tree into small pieces which he then carries to the mill. It isn’t the same as he left it, now restored to former glory instead of in shambles. The wood is placed in the grinder and Wirt slowly makes oil, wiping sweat off his forehead at regular intervals. When it’s all finished he pours the freshly made oil into the lantern and gets a rush of warmth and satisfaction. It’s like getting hot cocoa on a cold winter morning or the feeling he had when Sara smiled at him during that book report he specifically worked for weeks on about a novel he knew she loved. It makes all the work worth it and is the first time he feels good about the lantern, so of course it’s short lived. The lantern is drained near immediately and he is back outside, again in the cold with another person in the clearing. The cycle continues until he is shivering, the loss of warmth somehow worse every time, and he nearly stumbles to the last figure who’s considerably shorter than the previous few. He spares the time to take a look at the person this time, out of curiosity, and to his horror Dipper’s face was staring back at him frozen in fear. He scrambles away from the kid, now halfway to becoming a tree, and there is a deep smooth voice laughing behind him. “Well I was going to say you are just like me, but then again, I never killed any of my friends.” Wirt turns around. “ _You._ ” The beast is standing in front of him, antlers and eyes the only visible things in the dark. “Yes _me._ Come now you didn’t think you were really rid of me yet? Not when I’m a part of you.”  
Wirt shakes his head. “No you’re not! I could never end up like you!”  
The beast leans in close. “My mistake, it must have been someone else in the clearing greedily making oil just to feel warm for just a _single second_ . It looked like you though.”  
“No you don’t understand they’re supposed to be. It’s to help them!” Wirt didn’t know where that thought even came from, but it felt like the correct thing to say.  
The beast laughed again. “And in denial too! That's low even for our kind. Making up reasons to justify your twisted actions.”  
“And what exactly are our kind, huh? Why don’t you enlighten me? You could finally be useful for once!” 

“Hmm let’s see... I think I’d rather see you suffer, _successor_.”

The beast pushes him back into the tree and Wirt jolts awake from the tree he had been sleeping against. Body covered in thick, black vines and a (tangible?) blanket of shadows. His face is streaked in black oil that ran down his face like tears, maybe that’s just what his tears were made of now, as monstrous as what he had become. It was fitting in a way.

Dipper ran as fast as he could to the tree, chopped down a relatively large branch, and ran back to Wirt and the lantern. It took a while to get there, so he was surprised that when he got there Wirt was at least sort of awake? He was mumbling incoherently and his eyes were moving rapidly under his eyelids. Dipper sits next to him and the lantern, shaking him to try and get his attention. “Do I just put some wood in here? I don’t know how to make oil out of this.” Wirt doesn’t respond, so he just goes for it. _Here goes nothing._ Dipper places the wood into the dying flame which roars to life with the first piece, consuming it almost instantly. Any of Dipper’s lingering doubts about this being a literal supernatural being with a soul lantern are put to rest as Wirt jolts up, fully awake, eyes instantly ablaze with multicolor for an instant before returning to the glossy reflective surface they normally are. Dipper lets go of the lantern when it is pulled from his grasp quickly by Wirt who wraps his tall form around it, taking quick, shallow breaths and mumbling some more. Dipper leans in closer and makes out a few words: “Never”, “Not like you”, and “Leave me alone” before Wirt is silent and unmoving, unnatural eyes once again closed. Dipper decides to let him rest and get some sleep as well. His body apparently didn’t count passing out earlier as real rest, so he fell unconscious near instantly.


	3. I speak for the trees. The trees say burn us to sustain your immortal soul

Wirt wakes up, for good this time, with a warmth in his chest and a pain at his temples, and it was at that moment he realizes how cold and hollow he has felt for the past month. The warmth is not like the dream. More of a very small comfort than a relief, just barely a reminder that he was still alive. Although, he wasn’t completely sure what that meant anymore. If his soul was separated from his body, could he even still be considered alive? He wasn’t sure, but if he was still okay that meant… He throws the cloak off himself (which was decidedly longer than he remembered?) and takes out the lantern, squinting at the sudden influx of light. It was still burning, but how? He looks to his left finding Dipper, still asleep with his head on some Eldelwood branches thankfully severed and not crawling around his form. The kid had saved his life after watching him freak out at very valid and normal questions. Wirt resolves right then to help him in any way that he can, whether it be getting home (which he was planning on doing anyways, but now felt more inclined) or answering any and all of his questions about the Unknown. How bad could it be anyway? 

Wirt stands slowly so as not to wake Dipper and investigates the cloak. It has somehow, overnight become black instead of navy and is missing buttons. As he turns to look further, his head hits a tree branch and his temples flare up with more pain than before. He doubles over, clutching the sides of his head, but finding that instead of feeling hair he feels something akin to tree bark. His heart lurches into his throat as he feels around both sides of his head now feeling identical short bark-like protrusions on either side. The warmth of the lantern leaves him as it falls with him, his blood freezes in his veins, and the voice from his dream is back as he hears “ _ successor” _ hissed over and over again. Wind howls around him causing the lower tree branches he hit to curve away and the air to lower in temperature, The sky darkens with thunderclouds rolling in as if to acknowledge his suffering. Wirt stands frozen but breathing heavily for a long time until a voice snaps him out of it.

“Wirt, you okay?” Dipper walks around the tree to where Wirt has found himself, sees the antlers and his eyes widen. “Woah okay yeah that was  _ not _ there yesterday”

He didn’t know how long he had been frozen there, but he was standing once again. “Not exactly. I think you feeding the lantern had some unforeseen side effects.”

Dipper brightens, “It seems like it did. Did you not know this would happen? Why did this happen?” He comes over until he is standing just in front of Wirt and another change is discovered. “Oh.”

Dipper had either gotten about half a foot shorter or Wirt had gotten taller and only one of those seemed to fit the morning’s theme. Wirt started feeling dizzy again and had to brace himself against the tree to remain standing. 

“Woah dude, don’t go passing out on me again. I think you need to go make more of that oil before we do anything else. You still look pretty rough, but it seemed to help.” Dipper holds out the lantern whose flame has dimmed to a nearly imperceptible flicker barely seen, even with the darkness provided by the weather. “I was only able to put in some sticks, I’m not really sure how you make oil from trees.”

Wirt doesn’t hear anything after the lantern is placed in front of him,  _ his _ lantern. He remembers the brightness of the flame in his dream, the warmth, the end of the hollowness that had been plaguing him for  _ weeks _ and reaches out, but as his hand brushes the handle he hears several voices ringing through his mind “ _ yes do it! take it! free us _ !” There are too many at once sounding so desperate. It snaps him out of the trance caused by the lantern and he jerks backward. “I’m not going to do that.”

Dipper raises an eyebrow and lowers the lantern. “Why not? You obviously need it and nearly  _ died  _ last night”

“I will not kill people just to keep myself alive. My life isn’t worth ending theirs.”

“Killing people? They are literally trees, no one is dying. What are you talking about?”

Wirt gestures to the trees angrily. “How do you think those trees are made, huh? Why else would I be so miserable about all this? Souls were captured and made into trees by the last beast and now they’re everywhere and I won’t be the one to kill them like he did.”

Wirt hears the layers of voices again, this time even more insistent and with more adding on.  _ Yes do it, free us, use us to feed the lantern! _ Then a much larger chorus of _ Yes, free them! Help them! _ Wirt squeezes his eyes shut against the now increased noise and presses his hands to his head having forgotten about the antlers. The voices aren’t screaming but there are just so many of them saying the same things over and over and over. 

“Wirt, you okay? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Wirt looks at Dipper in confusion. The snow has reached his ankles now. “Do you not hear them? Of course you don’t! I’m going crazy.” He laughs bitterly. “I've finally lost my mind here. Wandering alone in this forest has finally driven me to madness”

“Woah Wirt calm down what exactly are you hearing? Maybe it is real! You have literal antlers now, so anything’s possible.”

Wirt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s all these voices and they all sound different. They’re asking me to free them? Over and over again, and there's so many of them and it’s not real it’s all in my head. The nightmares have finally gotten to me.” Wirt looks around wildly and tries to look for a source, but it’s just coming from everywhere.  _ So this is how my story ends _ . 

Dipper has taken out his notebook and is tapping a pen on his chin. "Well, have you tried doing that?"

Wirt turns back around with his cloak whipping rapidly. “Doing what?”

“Helping them? Listening to them? Why don’t you try seeing what they need you for, or ask them who they are in the first place?”

Wirt fixes him with a look of utter disbelief. “You want me to talk to the voices in my head?”

It’s Dipper’s turn to sigh.”They might be in your head, but that doesn’t mean you are crazy. Maybe there are things around here that speak telepathically? It wouldn’t be my first run in with something like that.”   
Wirt starts to argue, but figures he can at least try like he never did for Greg. After all that was the original reason for taking him home, gaining some sort of redemption and making things as right as he could. “Okay I’ll try seeing who they are or if they have a real way we could talk in person.”

Wirt closes his eyes and focuses on the voices. When he does it is unbearably loud at first, but as soon as they notice his attention they quiet down and seem to be waiting. Wirt isn’t aware of his surroundings, but the snow and harsh wind has stopped as well.  _ Uh hello there. Who are you exactly? And why are you screaming at me? _

Wirt is hit with several whispers of overlapping “ _ Save us. Free us. Trapped. Make this right. _ ” __

_ Alright, slow down, I’m not sure I can help at all or even what you mean by “free you” I’m kind of lost here. One thing at a time. Who are you guys anyway _ ? 

The many voices all answer at the same time. “ _ We are all around you. Your source of power and thus your responsibility. You are our guide and guardian and we, your life blood.” _

Wirt opens his eyes to an eager Dipper quickly scribbling notes with his tongue sticking out and he clears his throat to get his attention. Dipper simply looks up with a questioning glance without pausing his writing. 

“They say they are currently around us, but they’re being super cryptic about it.”

“What did they say  _ exactly _ ?”

“Something about being trapped which we already knew. They want to be freed, but there was something about me being their guide? They said they were the source of my power? Which I don’t have any power, so that seems useless.”

Dipper looks straight at Wirt’s antlers then the shadows hugging tight to his form and finally makes a point of looking at the dark clouds above them. “Nope no powers at all, not a single thing about you has magic. Not. One. Thing.” 

Wirt rolls his eyes. “Yes I have some weird appearance stuff now, but that doesn’t count as  _ powers _ . That would be ridiculous.”

Dipper chooses to ignore the denial for now and his brow furrows as he starts pacing, pen clicking with each step. “Well the source of your power would be tied to this lantern thing right? It has your soul in it, so that’s probably part of it at least. The lantern is kept lit with oil from those creepy trees you were talking about and the only thing near us are…” Dipper thrusts his pen in the air triumphantly. “That’s it!” He spins around so fast Wirt jumps backwards with wide eyes. “Wirt do you think it could be those weird trees? It would make sense since they’re magic that they would be able to speak with you considering how you are tied to them by the lantern.”

Wirt pales and steps back. “I don’t want any sort of connection to those things. It’s gotta be something else.”

“But that makes the most sense! You should at least ask and why would that be so bad? They’re asking you to free them, so maybe we can still save those people after all!” 

Wirt looks ready to continue arguing but sighs and slides down the tree where he is embraced by the snow as he closes his eyes once more. 

_ Hey, guys? Trees? Whatever. Are you the eldelwood trees? Or the souls they’re made of….? _

He gets layers of whispers of “ _ The young beast, he hears us!” “We are the lost souls. Still lost. All your fault. Free us.” _

Wirt takes a deep breath and tries not to tune out the cacophony of voices.  _ Okay now first of all I’m not the beast I’m just a guy who had his soul taken and put in the lantern. Second, what do you mean it’s my fault? The beast is the one who did this to you, not me. _

The wind picks up and the trees are rustling violently with the snow.  _ “The beast made us trees, but he is gone. Use us in the lantern, chop the wood and light the fire _ .”

Wirt sits up abruptly.  _ What!? Why would you want to be cut down? How about instead I get you out of there? _

“ _ We are already trees, no going back, being cut is the only way to move on.” _

_ Move on? Move on from what? I don’t understand. _

_ “To whatever comes next... Find us.” _ With that the voices go silent and Wirt has the distinct sensation that they can’t hear him anymore, so he opens his eyes slowly remembering his exhaustion as he looks up at Dipper squinting through the snow.

“Well? What did they say?”

“They said that I had to cut them down in order to free them so they could move on.”

“Move on? Wait so you said this place was like a place in between life and death, does that mean-”

Wirt interrupts with sadness written across his features. “Yeah. Yeah. I think so. They have to be guided. It seems my real job here is to help them from this existence to the next.” He swallows thickly and slumps against the tree.

Dipper shrugs and sits next to him. “At least it isn’t murder like we thought.”

Wirt snorts and picks up the lantern, standing back up. “Yeah, guess I won’t be dying either.” And for the first time since being left in the Unknown, cold and alone all those weeks ago, Wirt smiles.


	4. Dipper's turn for the existential crisis, thanks a lot Wirt

Wirt angles the lantern a bit further away and attempts to ignore Dipper's furious writing which was probably, no not probably,  _ definitely  _ about him and his freakish transformation. Overnight!? How? Even deer don’t get antlers overnight, he was sure of it! Probably. Not that they are as wide a deer’s... wingspan? Is that the term? They’re only a few inches on each side with a couple seperate branches. They felt more like branches than antlers anyway, heck they probably were. Along with that, because that wasn’t bad enough, there was the added height and the way the weather seemed to be quieting with his gradual acceptance of the situation, well, maybe not quite  _ acceptance _ but maybe resignation? Is that a better word? Yeah, sure we’ll go with that. Most of his thoughts though remain focused more on his current mission. _ I just talked to some trees, you know as you do, and now that I know they’re alive they want me to kill them. Perfect. Just as expected. Totally normal. Not weird at all. Super easy just have to cut some trees down and grind them into oil without slipping into a panic attack, or worse, enjoyment… _ He remembered the warmth from the dream and a shiver ran down his spine. _ No problem. _ He is so deep in thought that he nearly veers into Dipper who isn’t looking either, what with being deep into writing in the journal since they left the clearing. The clearing where he had almost…  _ Don’t think about that _ . He cleared his throat and veered back away from the kid, making sure his  _ antlers  _ didn’t hit any of the surrounding branches as he moved because he now knew from experience it  _ hurt _ . “So uh, what’s up with that book anyways? You haven’t put it down since you got here.” 

Dipper finally looks up and closes the pages patting the cover. “It’s my journal of all things supernatural. All the discoveries I have made on my own are here. I’ve got information about strengths, weaknesses, sketches, basically all the information someone would want when coming into contact with a dangerous creature.”

“Oh.” Wirt tries to hide his disappointment at being roped in with dangerous creatures. He could probably be considered dangerous now, loath as he was to admit it. He had the power to make people into trees but hadn’t used it, so could he be considered dangerous. Is something dangerous because it has the potential to do harmful things or does it only become dangerous when you add motive and intent? He didn’t really know. He wanted to think he wasn’t dangerous because he would  _ never _ be like the other beast. He would never abuse the power that was thrust upon him without want or consent, but you can never say never and the dream from before had already shown him how easy it would be to slip, perhaps it was only a matter of time? No. He’d die before he let that happen, but almost dying is what led him to being so desperate in the first place… He abruptly shifted his course to the left, abandoning the path they had been on to get closer to the tree. He wasn’t exactly sure where the tree was, but his body seemed to be moving on autopilot with a gradually increasing sort of  _ pulling  _ sensation. It felt like how he would imagine hearing a waterfall would feel while being severely dehydrated. He felt some relief at the idea that the pain and cold that had been his constant companions would go away soon, but he had already been so used to the pain until this point that he hadn’t been feeling it at all. That is, until the idea of  _ not  _ having to feel it became a possibility. A splitting headache makes itself known and Wirt starts moving faster. Wirt doesn't question how he knows where to go, he just goes, thanking his new height instead of cursing it because his stride covers a lot more ground than it used to and he needs to get to that tree as fast as he can, but would he even have the guts to cut it down once he saw it? That was why he was in this whole mess in the first place he was going to do it, but the idea of killing someone even if they were a tree now and even if they had  _ asked  _ him to. It didn’t sit well. He notices that the wind has begun to pick up again and is throwing around blankets of snow. He spares a glance back to make sure Dipper is keeping up, and the kid is casting wary glances towards the swirling flakes but his gaze snaps back forward to lock eyes with Wirt and he sucks in a quick breath. “Are you alright?” 

Wirt tilts his head to the side and shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be? I am an inch away from death and I found out that my eternal punishment for saving this plane of existence is to kill some trees so they can move on to whatever comes next while I remain here for seemingly eternity. I also have freaky antlers and the weather seems to want to make this as difficult as possible, so yeah I’m fine.”

Dipper winces and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Yeah that’s rough man, sorry. Just the wind picked up so I figured something happened, nevermind.”

Sensing the others’ discomfort Wirt deflates a little. “Sorry Dipper, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have gotten upset at you, it's just a lot to take in.” Wirt stops walking and turns. “What would the wind have to do with something being wrong? Do you think it’s the trees again? What could they want now? We are going where they said to to help, so how could they be upset with us?”

***************

Dipper nearly walks into Wirt when he stops, unable to really see through the snow and darkness, but catches himself upon seeing the dull reflective glow of Wirt’s eerie eyes. They kept his attention until he realized what Wirt was implying, did he really not understand that he was causing this? Dipper knew the guy was in denial about a lot of this, but come on! The best way to approach this would be to allow the weird forest spirit to realize it on his own as he likely wouldn’t believe Dipper if he just said what was going on, but how to do that…? Dipper smiles slightly as a plan begins to form in his mind. “Oh nevermind it’s probably just me being paranoid as usual.” They begin walking in silence for a while as the wind increases in volume which Dipper assumes is because of Wirt overthinking the situation once again. Time to test out his theory. “So, Wirt. What kind of hobbies do you have?” 

Wirt shrugs, kicks a stray rock and Dipper notes how he seems to have no problem seeing where they are going even in the conditions. The spirit steps over quite a few large tree branches that cause him to stumble, as if he can see them and thus avoid them. He yanks himself out of the thought to pay attention to Wirt’s response. “Not many to be honest. I like poetry I guess, I can't really read much anymore with my books being at home but most of what I enjoyed is right up here anyways.” Wirt tries to point to his temple and ends up hitting the antler instead. The reminder of its presence causes the wind to crescendo to the point that Dipper has to yell to be heard. This was backfiring quickly. “That’s pretty cool. You have it memorized?”

“Yeah just the ones that are good though I don’t know a whole lot.”

“Whose do you consider to be good enough to justify memorizing?” Dipper narrowly avoids another branch.

“Oh just well Poe is my favorite which I know is a bit cliche, but I really enjoy his depth and word choice. The poem I was reciting when you found me was actually one of his.”

“Oh, really? He sounds familiar. Which of his poems do you like best?”

Wirt is silent for a moment and the wind finally,  _ finally _ dies down a bit, just enough to lower them to speaking volume. “I’m not sure actually. That’s what’s so great is all of his poems are good, so I'll need a minute to think it over.”

Dipper nearly pumps his fists in the air at his small success, but it’s not over yet he has to keep him talking. Unfortunately, Dipper was not very good at poetry and briefly wishes he had brushed up on it before being trapped here. “Okay, well take your time. No rush.”

As Wirt contemplates the question the wind slowly but surely dies down until Dipper can hear Wirt muttering poems to himself as he decides and the snow backs off to almost beautiful delicate flakes. Dipper can now avoid the branches, seeing them in the worryingly dim lantern light that is now not completely clouded by snow. 

Wirt raises his voice from the low murmur. “I think that in light of recent events it would have to be “A Dream Within A Dream.” Have you heard that one?” 

Dipper shakes his head before remembering that Wirt is facing away from him. “No I can’t say that I have. What’s it about?”

Wirt straightens and his voice takes on an excitement that Dipper hasn’t seen from him thus far. Since they met the spirit has been melancholy or upset or nervous, but the way he speaks about poetry is filled with passion and excitement that nearly has Dipper wanting to read some when he gets back.

“It really delves into the complexities of loss and touches on wondering whether reality is any different from dreams. Is the world that dreams exist within just a different version of or even an extension of reality? How do we know whether or not we are dreaming or awake and how can we even truly perceive reality when we are limited by our own experiences? Does reality even exist at all? It’s interesting to think about, and now that I find myself in a dream-like reality with things occuring that shouldn’t be possible I wonder if I am going to wake up someday to find it was all a dream.” Dipper pretends not to hear the soft “I hope that I do.” that comes after. Wirt sighs, but his overall demeanor has brightened the slightest bit, ending the storm. 

Dipper should be happy his plan succeeded, but Wirt’s words make him uneasy. He wouldn’t know about the mindscape, would he? The place where reality and dreams blur together.  _ The place that haunts my nightmares. _ It was unlikely, but his wording reminds Dipper of it so much that a shiver travels down his spine and he knows he has to hear the poem now. “Would you be okay with reciting it?”

“Oh uh sure, I guess.” Wirt loses his relaxed position and starts to protest, but instead takes a deep breath before speaking in a smooth, melodic tone Dipper hadn’t heard from this awkward guy since he first got there. It was almost like the poetry had some magic in it and if Dipper knew anything about the supernatural he would bet it did. But why? What does it mean? He files those questions away for later in favor of focusing on the words themselves.

_ “Take this kiss upon the brow! _

_ And, in parting from you now, _

_ Thus much let me avow — _

_ You are not wrong, who deem _

_ That my days have been a dream; _

_ Yet if hope has flown away _

_ In a night, or in a day, _

_ In a vision, or in none, _

_ Is it therefore the less gone?  _

_ All that we see or seem _

_ Is but a dream within a dream. _

_ I stand amid the roar _

_ Of a surf-tormented shore, _

_ And I hold within my hand _

_ Grains of the golden sand — _

_ How few! yet how they creep _

_ Through my fingers to the deep, _

_ While I weep — while I weep! _

_ O God! Can I not grasp _

_ Them with a tighter clasp? _

_ O God! can I not save _

_ One from the pitiless wave? _

_ Is all that we see or seem _

_ But a dream within a dream? _ ”

  
When Wirt finishes he seems more tense than usual, which is saying something, but Dipper reassures him with a tight smile until he turns back away. That whole poem was weird. The idea of not being able to tell the difference between dreams and reality only brought back bad memories and how could he even judge reality at this point anyway? He sees monsters daily and is currently in literal  _ Purgatory _ so could you even call anything reality anymore? Would it even be fair to say that existed? “ _ Reality is an illusion” _ the voice echoed through his mind and he shivered as he flipped back to the newer pages in his journal. He had attempted to copy down what he could remember from the dream he had after getting knocked out, but couldn’t quite make out a few of the more specific details yet. The mirror stuck in his mind though, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out the cipher to use, granted it has only been a day, but they were usually your standard move the letter a few back or flip A to Z and fill in, but this one was different. He hadn’t had time to go through  _ all _ of the combinations of numbers back from the ones listed, but was on five back at this point, so progress at least. The other issue was the matter of the strange runes engraved on the statue, he couldn’t remember them at all and when he tried to place himself in that moment of the dream he found that none of the flashes were clear. It was frustrating to stay the least and he, not for the first time, wished he had brought all of the journals with him, but in his defense he hadn’t expected to be gone for multiple days. Wirt assured him earlier that time worked differently and when he got home nearly no time would have passed, but he couldn’t help his growing worry that Mable would find his unconscious body in the woods somewhere and then this dream business would be the least of his problems. Oil being somewhere in the middle. The whole situation was weird. Wirt wasn’t like any of the forest spirits he had met or read about before. He didn’t seem to have the sort of instinctual knowledge of the forest that Dipper assumed he should have, but hey he just got the antler things and magic in general for the first time, so maybe it was just a process? He flips over to Wirt’s growing list of questions and jots that down. The page is full of theories he wants to try and questions he wants to ask; although, Wirt seems to be the least helpful source of information about what sort of creature he is. Likely because he went into it knowing nothing and seems to have not quite accepted his position enough to even  _ try _ learning anything even though he'll die if he doesn’t. The whole situation is bizarre, but Dipper promised to help, so he will as much as he can. Although it’ll probably be easier once this lantern has some oil in it so he won’t be on the verge of death at all times. Maybe he can experiment with making the oil last longer? He writes “How long does oil typically last?” in the margin next to a rough sketch of the lantern and continues scribbling down theories as he follows Wirt to the tree.


	5. Nerd turned lumberjack, who would've thought?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt needs oil, Dipper needs answers. Why can't they just cooperate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So okay first things first, sorry this took a million years... But! The entire plot and magic system for this had to be reworked and analyzed to death for several weeks to get to where it is now, so things should go a lot more smoothly from here on out. Also school kind of killed me for a bit but a friendly neighborhood necromancer resurrected me so I could finish this story they have my thanks and apparently eternal servitude?

Who knew chopping down a tree would be so difficult? Wirt has assumed that since it was critical to his existence and to the enjoyment of the afterlife of this soul some sort of magical something (which still doesn’t exist obviously just mere effects of nature simple science, clearly) would have helped out with the process which was incredibly naive of him since it had been several hours now. And wow what hours they were. 

Dipper seemed to be content scribbling some notes down in that journal of his (when he wasn’t busy chewing the pen to death) leaving Wirt alone with his thoughts which was never a good idea as of late. He would have watched the blizzard, but as time had gone on and Wirt’s anger at the situation dimmed, so did the wind and snow until there was nothing of the earlier weather save for the 2 feet of snow on the ground. He just had to keep going, keep cutting, ignore that he had never cut down a tree before he just has to get to that oil that calls to him with every successful chop of the axe, an end of the pain that he could feel deep within his being assaulting his every sense and nerve since he had gotten within a foot of the tree. With these thoughts the wind picks back up swirling snow around the two of them and Wirt watches Dipper wince as his book flies out of his hands and onto the snow. 

“Hey, uh, Wirt?” He pauses mid-swing and turns, unaware of the crazed glint in his eye made all the more intimidating by the light reflecting off of them. He catches his breath which he shouldn’t even have to do since he’s basically dead, why are all his powers useless? 

“Yes?” 

Dipper manages to keep the book in his arms this time against another strong gust of wind and hesitates before responding. “You sure you don’t want my help? I chop wood all the time back home and you could take a break at least.” 

Wirt sighs the wind dying down with it and buries the axe into the ground. “No it’s fine just, yeah. I’ll take a minute.” 

He sits heavily down on the ground beside Dipper, but doesn’t account for the added weight of the antlers and ends up falling back into the snow with a groan as the kid next to him laughs brightly. Wirt sits up with a slight noise of discomfort, rubbing his temple right where the antler (branch?) sprouts from and turns to face Dipper. “You said you know a lot about paranormal stuff, have you figured out what exactly I am at all? I mean before it wasn’t so pressing but now that there’s you know antlers and voices in my head I think things have gotten a bit more pressing to figure out.” 

Dipper chews on his pen thoughtfully and looks Wirt over for a solid minute. “I may have figured out what you are, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” 

Wirt stills and tries to ignore his rising heartbeat. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than anything he was thinking, right?  “I already don’t like it, but it’s worse not knowing, so what are you thinking?” 

Dipper sighs and fixes him with a very serious stare causing Wirt’s throat to constrict and wow was the wind picking up again? He takes a steadying breath before continuing, maintaining the grave expression all the while. 

“Have you ever heard of," Another deep breath. "Santa's magic reindeer?” 

Wirt has only a second to panic before the words register, the seriousness vanishes, and a grin appears on the younger boy’s face as he doubles over laughing, nearly falling into the snow.  He is too shocked to respond for a solid minute until the words catch up and he glares at the kid. “Oh ha ha, jerk. I was being serious.”

Dipper takes a deep breath so he can manage speech again and pulls a straight face. “So was I. You better get rid of any December plans you used to have because those eyes of yours are needed to guide the sleigh in case it gets foggy or something. They won’t manage without you.” 

With that the laughter dies down but he still carries a smug smile that Wirt can’t help but want to wipe off his face. This was a serious problem! Here he was taking a break from cutting down the  _ souls of the innocent _ and this stupid kid was making fun of the antlers he didn’t even want!  _ Oh I’ll show you the stupid glowy eyes _ . Wirt plans on making his eyes flash just for a moment, just as a joke in retaliation with some vocal distortion if he could manage, but something primal inside of him begs to take control. He nearly pushes it down like he always has, but maybe that’s just how the powers work? He definitely doesn’t know how to do anything himself. He can take a backseat, scare the kid a bit, and then take back the reins. How bad could it be? Wirt normally wouldn’t let that happen, but the oil has been pulling at him for hours being so close and yet the tree won’t budge and he’s in so much pain and he didn’t ask to be teased and he’s not in the mood, so when that silky smooth voice that inspires both terror and anticipation in his very  **soul** says “ _ Allow me _ .” Well _...  _ he doesn’t exactly fight it as hard as he should have. 

As he lets go, something  _ else _ steps in. Something ancient and powerful. Something that’s not quite the beast. Something that has spent eons transporting souls and laid claim to this dimension long before dimensions were ever conceived of and  **_how dare_ ** this child make fun of a power he couldn’t possibly comprehend? Oh, he’d know power in a moment. 

**_~ ~ ~_ **

Dipper realizes exactly 5 seconds in that he maybe went a little too far, but seriously Wirt needed to lighten up a bit! They say you either laugh or cry through the pain and the dumb antler dude was going to dehydrate at this rate. Plus, come on, that was hilarious! However, mere seconds after he was capable of looking at Wirt without bursting into laughter the whole forest darkens to pitch black in the middle of the day. All of the regular forest noises surrounding them stop as all animals get as far away as they can out of primal fear for the being they instinctively know as the top predator of this forest, no matter how long it’s been or how gentle he’s seemed so far. The being in question has lost all form other than shadow and those eyes… 

Dipper takes an unconscious step back as fear fills him from head to toe. He realizes he now knows what a bug feels like before it’s crushed by a shoe. No amount of running or hiding or groveling would help because what could he possibly have to offer that would sway this kind of power? He could feel it oozing off in waves, accelerating his heartbeat and causing him to shake and hyperventilate and the investigator who spent countless hours facing down paranormal threats, who stopped the apocalypse with nothing but sheer determination had never felt even half as certain as he was now that these were his last moments. 

Dipper Pines knew he was going to die here and no one would even know. No one could even say he stood a chance against a being like this and his entire life was insignificant and this creature takes souls to survive and was now staring into his and why on Earth would he try to befriend something so dangerous? This would be his last mistake. He was no one and had never been anyone and his entire existence was meaningless in the eyes of something so ancient, would Wirt even care? His lifespan was a mere blip on the radar of the boy’s newfound immortality and he was weighed down by his own insignificance in the eyes of the cosmos. Who was he again? He couldn’t remember. Through all of this he keeps eye contact with those rings and the silhouette in front of him that seems to have grown. A single clawed hand that looks more like bark than anything resembling human comes forward and grabs him by the shirt. They say your life is supposed to flash before your eyes before you die, but he couldn’t even comprehend of a sense of self or a life to remember. Vines rush over the snow covered ground to wrap around his legs and his torso and eventually it reaches his head and he can feel his insides liquefying, but just as he starts to lose consciousness he focuses on the singing? Coming from the shadowy figure knowing that he has been doing it the whole time, but not able to remember what he said before now being so stuck in his fear, but he hears a song in that now almost familiar soft eerie tone that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once in that moment Dipper experiences what he can only describe as an overwhelming sense of clarity. It brushes the fear away as if it hadn’t been there in the first place. He was Dipper Pines paranormal investigator, preventer of the apocalypse, protector and scholar of all things supernatural who has fought things on a near daily basis that would make most men run and hide, so why the hell was he even near unsettled by some glowstick eyes and shadows? 

Wirt was nothing even close to the types of things in his nightmares, and with that knowledge alone he pulls an unimpressed expression looking directly at the shadow right into those now almost funny ( _ the word hilarious echoed in his mind for a moment before being shoved into a rather large safe of thoughts we  _ **_do not_ ** _ allow here. _ ) colored lights the creature had for eyes. 

“Wirt, come on man it was just a joke quit being dramatic.” The figure stops singing and comes closer to Dipper’s face staring intently. He starts ripping off the vines curled around his form which let go of him easily and starts to walk away keeping up his apathetic demeanor. “This isn’t the scariest thing I’ve seen  _ this week _ you’re gonna have to do better than that if you want to scare me.” 

It was a risky move, but if Dipper was correct it would be the best way to stay alive and get some trust. The figure sped backwards at a rate he could hardly follow and looked down, arms clutching the sides of his head as the darkness slowly drained back into the normal shadows. “Look, why don’t you just take a break like I said and let me chop at the tree for a bit, goodness knows I could get through it in a quarter of the time it would take you.” 

He raises the axe with fluid, practiced ease to demonstrate his point and starts at the previously abandoned tree as if nothing happened making sure to only sneak glances at Wirt as the shadows disappear for good until the only thing left is the tear streaked face of the kid who now looks much, _much_ younger than he is. Wirt curls up into a ball, shoulders embedded into a nearby tree, and Dipper decides to leave him alone until he's ready, continuing to chop until nightfall.


	6. Dipper: anxious mess™ (someone please help this poor child)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper over-analyzes everything as per usual and Wirt freaks out about being safe. What a pair these two make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not died or abandoned this, promise! It has been a few months of self doubt, but I love this story wayy too much to leave for long. Plus I have the entire thing planned out and I wanna read the end very badly, but that means I gotta progress so here goes one step closer!

Dipper sighs as the last of the wood is chopped, silently apologizing to Stan for complaining about doing it during the summers. At least then it wasn’t an  _ entire tree _ and it wasn’t to keep a powerful entity (see: socially awkward teen) from consuming his soul. The whole thing was surreal, but that wasn’t why he frantically searched through the journal as soon as his job was done. There was an even bigger problem that presented itself while swinging the axe, but it had to wait because while Dipper could be a bit obsessive over new research he has his priorities enough in check to recognize that keeping his soul when the unpredictable and very obviously  _ hungry  _ creature comes too should be the first thing covered. 

What he said about not being afraid of the guy was true and all, but he’d rather not have to fight him or anything when it came down to it. Better for everyone if he just got some wood and helped a bit, although he has a bit of a theory about that as well.

Now’s not the time though. See, one of the many things Wirt doesn’t seem to realize is that his powers - Well, he doesn’t even acknowledge having powers at all come to think of it - now seem to include elemental sort of manipulation. This is neat! Very interesting and he seems to be potentially willing to experiment with them once he isn’t in danger of hurting anyone, BUT. More importantly. Dipper hadn’t felt any of those effects, not really. 

Once he fell asleep after, let’s call it the second “incident” the wind picked back up, meaning two things 

  1. He is probably having a nightmare or feels really bad about the whole thing and 
  2. Dipper should be a popsicle by now. 



It took an embarrassingly long amount of wood chopping before he noticed and it was a gradual thing. The leaves made a lot of noise and the snow was being blown up, so Dipper had the conscious thought of  _ I should bundle up so I don’t get cold _ . He tried to sink into his hoodie a bit to stave off the cold, and forgot about the whole incident attributing the lack of chill to his preparation combined with physical activity until taking a break. He was  _ sweating _ . Which yeah sure it’s a lot of work, but even if he was sweating from physical exertion he should have felt a chill upon stopping, maybe even felt some of the sweat freeze, but nothing. There are snow-drifts surrounding him at nighttime in a forest existing in nothing but a thin hoodie and jeans and yet, if anything, he feels  _ hot _ . 

His first thought is a fever and he settles on asking Wirt to check him when he wakes up before realizing Wirt is likely dead and probably without any sort of blood or body temperature. He writes it on the research questions page and resumes considering symptoms. He’s been out in the elements for several days now and been sleeping a lot with no food or water, so it is reasonable to assume illness, but he’s in  _ purgatory _ . Can people even get sick here?

The other option he doesn’t really want to consider, but it seems the most likely. He touches that weird lantern thing and gets knocked out cold. Next thing he knows he’s super warm, but not his skin, it’s more inside. He doesn’t feel hot to the touch, although again his hands might just be the same high temperature as the rest of him rendering a feeling test null and void, but it’s all he has to go on. Unless… 

Dipper thrusts his hand into one of the snow-drifts and watches with fascination as it evaporates into steam instantly upon contact. Meaning- His body temperature has to be somewhere at or above 100 degrees Celsius, which he only remembers because honestly Metric numbers are easier to memorize. Who even knows how much that is in Fahrenheit? Not Dipper, that’s for sure, but it’s definitely a lot. More than likely, higher than a human body temperature is supposed to be, but again before he can get worked up he remembers he’s in purgatory essentially. Who knows how things work here? He may have simply thought about not wanting Wirt’s cold mood swings to kill him and it was fine until he suspected magic interference and then his paranoia manifested as extreme heat rather than being comfortable like normal. Or he’s magic sick now. The sad thing is that at this point he isn’t even sure which sounds less crazy. It may work on mindscape-type physics meaning absolutely none whatsoever or it may be just like the real world. He certainly didn’t feel any ability to manipulate the surroundings but he isn’t entirely  _ dead _ according to Wirt, so maybe that’s why? But if so, then why wouldn’t Wirt make himself less creepy? Maybe being unaware of the ability to change things means you can’t? He could question Wirt on it later along with the dozens of other questions he has prepared.

He should probably focus on getting home, but this place is fascinating and a little research never hurt anyone, right? He could stay for a bit, write his findings down, and then go home. Wirt would have said whether or not studying for longer would hurt him, or maybe he wouldn’t? After all, he couldn’t consume his soul if he seemed threatening. Maybe that’s the entire plan. Gain Dipper’s trust before killing him, but then why nearly die  _ twice _ and not do anything before now? He could be playing the long game, but it doesn’t seem likely. Wirt has no reason to act as nice- _ ish _ as he has if murder is the final step. He’s much stronger than Dipper with the magic so his trust isn’t required and he hasn’t asked for anything so it’s probably fine.

Against his better judgment, Dipper trusts the guy and if he pays for it in the end, well, at least Mable would be proud of him for trying to make a friend and wouldn’t blame him for being stupid. She would probably be looking for him by now, if not found him already, but it would be worth it. He can come back with a whole journal full of notes on what’s in-between life and death and the weird creature seemingly in charge of the place despite hating it. Only his family would believe him, but still! All that knowledge right at his fingertips and all he had to do was stay for a couple of days and talk to a potential new friend. A scary and powerful friend, but one nonetheless!

Speaking of which… Dipper glances at the tree Wirt slid against before and decides to sit next to him and sketch the creature while he can’t protest. In order to catalog the branches emerging from temples, the startling added height, those glowing eyes he has to do from memory, but considering they’re burned in there he doesn’t have any trouble. He takes some leaves from the tree he chopped as well and starts on a detailed diagram not even realizing when he starts to drift off…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wirt opens his eyes to a forest. It’s upsetting that his first responses to seeing trees above him now are anger and unease. The forest used to mean new poetry and inspiration, but now it only holds memories of past sorrow and new terrors yet undiscovered.

Dark branches twist around one another, moving in a way that makes them appear to be dancing or slithering if you’re feeling particularly disenchanted in the way one becomes after having to deal with “forest magic bs” for as long as Wirt has. The interesting thing about the movement is that despite it, one tree can not be distinguished from the one right beside it. The branches themselves all appear to be a part of one single entity, one mind even as they shift. It’s decidedly unnatural, well tree branches moving at all isn’t natural, but this is something else. They move like they’re growing at an exponential rate with no guidance or maybe  _ more _ guidance than usual? Anyways unnatural is the word that prevails in his mind forcing him to consider it. He can think of nothing else in the way a poem doesn’t leave your mind until you’ve memorized it or maybe Wirt is simply unnatural himself, but not only in his physical form with how it changed, but perhaps he always was? Something else, something  _ other, _ something not meant for the world at large because it lacks the ability to appreciate it fully- And maybe that’s the point.

Unnatural is a word stuck with an unpleasant feeling. This is due to being sadly limited by language in the way a system has to be when created by a finite consciousness extending to one being for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it instant of time before quick termination. It’s a word made to help understand the world by defining what is and isn’t allowed to exist without ridicule at any given time asserting that humans could even comprehend what is and isn’t “correct” within the natural order, but ironically limited by the lack of understanding inherent in it’s very creation. A human will often render the more unsatisfactory or hard to understand parts of nature as “unnatural” when they are just as natural as anything else. People who tap into a deeper understanding and a longing to delve into what most shy away from are branded as unnatural until they are eventually seen as the geniuses of their respective times and isn’t that the kicker? That thought shakes him from the ideas entering his brain. Ideas Wirt would almost assert aren’t his own, but then who else would they belong to? They’re in his own mind they feel like something he could easily come to the conclusion of but mostly wouldn’t decide to for lack of time or caring.

The thick tendrils of wood slide past one another quicker now, and while their shape calls to mind the expectation of a loud shifting noise in reality there are only a few slight creaks followed by silence. The sky above them is starless save for a couple, but the tendrils block out enough of them at a time that he can’t make out an alignment before wondering why he’s looking for one in the first place. Constellations were never his thing, really, so why now? The thought is brushed aside easily in favor of taking in the rest of the surroundings.

These woods somehow have never felt more safe to him than in this moment. Nothing is coming after him, no low singing in the distance, no call to feed the lantern, just calm and a warm presence(s) he can not sense by any conventional means besides just knowing. Though, he can’t recall why these things would worry him anyways and they escape his consciousness before he can ponder his questions for the length of time an actual answer would demand.

He thinks on why he’s here. There must be a reason. He hasn’t been allowed to just rest in so long, so why now? He knows that at least with unquestionable certainty. The lack of tension between his shoulders, the slow heart rate, the way his breaths deepen with time, all of this matched with a clear mind would cause him panic if he were capable of remembering how. The feeling should be ingrained in his very being, but has abandoned him in favor of this new experience. Rest is not a luxury he is afforded, not after what he did, not after-  _ something _ . Although he can’t remember what, and it speaks to how little it matters that he again brushes it aside. Those thoughts can wait until later for once. He is pain free and strangely okay for the first time in what he can’t recall have been decades and a whispering song-like voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

‘You are not the other’

Wirt’s blood runs cold at the mention of him and he stands quickly to search for the voice’s origin. A second distinct voice joins it, but just as quiet and untraceable as the other.

_ ‘They  _ would have glutted themselves on the oil by now yet this one seems to ignore it’s presence altogether? Curious.’

The first voice answers back softer, more unsure. ‘Perhaps a guide, not a hunter?’ It is quiet for a moment as if coming to a decision. The tendrils stop all at once and the wind… He can’t even describe it. It gains a physical form, but also it doesn’t. Wir can’t see a silhouette or anything like that but the voice and wind seem to solidify? It’s like if a memory were brought into our dimension and consolidated into a multi headed mass, yet how can he truly said multi headed when he can’t see a single face? He knows it is though, that that’s the correct term somehow. That the lack of language to describe it lends itself to a less than satisfactory term that must do all the same. The voice breaks him from his musings.

‘We wish to move on’

The form is rushing at him and he nearly screams, but remains frozen instead knowing with a warm feeling in his insides that it can not,  _ will _ not harm him.

‘Death is nothing compared to unrest’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wirt jerks awake. The sudden movement causes him to hit one side of his, ugh,  _ antlers _ , on the tree behind him and the other side on something much softer.

“Ow”

Wirt tries to jump to his feet, but finds himself stopped by a smaller hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah  _ ow _ .” Dipper rises to a sitting position next to him and rubs the side of his head. “I know I said the whole scary monster thing you’ve got going on was alright, but I take that back if  _ you  _ being comfortable means  _ I _ get impaled.”

Wirt sighs in relief at the sight of Dipper next to him rather than something more sinister, but freezes since that means the soft thing he hit was likely Dipper’s face. He wrings his hands and keeps his gaze firmly pointed towards the ground in front of him searching for an apology that could even begin to cover what he’d done, but upon coming short decides to go with the standard.

“Sorry about that.” Wirt clears his throat, awkwardly. “A-and sorry about everything, really. I’m sure ‘sorry’ can’t really fix it, but-” He lifts his gaze to the younger when he feels his knee being kicked.

“I already told you it’s  _ fine _ .” Dipper rolls his eyes and stands up from the tree. “You’re a little scary sometimes, sure, I’ll admit it, but you clearly have no idea what you’re doing. I wouldn’t blame a plant for hurting me if I threw my finger on it to see what would happen, so I’m not going to blame you for reacting to my poking so to speak.”

Wirt’s expression of gratitude dies in his throat as Dipper’s reassuring smile quickly becomes one more wide and calculating as he pulls out his pen and book again. “But if you want to make it up to me I have some ideas, and I will not hesitate to start a guilt trip. I have quite a bit of ammo at this point, tree boy, so don’t even try to back out.”

Wirt sighs and lowers his head in resignation knowing that the endless barrage of questioning he would likely be subjected to if his earlier  _ light _ conversation was anything to go by. “What exactly do you want to know?”


	7. Kintsugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt does his normal tortured poet business and Dipper reminds him that he's not dead yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always loved the concept of Kintsugi and what it represents. Taking something considered useless and broken and making it into something beautiful, not by hiding the breaks, but highlighting them is indescribably wonderful to me and I thought it was a nice parallel to how Wirt feels about himself.

An exhausted Wirt and a frustrated Dipper finally  _ Oh thank the gods,  _ **_finally_ ** return to his makeshift home. A breeze whistles through the space in-between the wooden planks that Wirt just couldn’t care enough about to fix. Not like he seemed to be able to feel anything  _ but _ cold anymore, so why even bother? The ruins of the first home he entered in this forsaken realm seemed a fitting place to remain for the rest of his existence. A place destroyed with the same efficiency applied to the destruction of his future appeared an option too poetic to resist.

That’s all he had left at the time, poetry and sorrow. Upon this realization the boy nearly regretted wishing to be a great poetry writer, for who among them lived without severe tragedy? None of the ones he preferred at least. The realization — which occurred around a week (in his own flawed perception of the passage of time) before Dipper arrived — was an unwelcome one that led to the inevitable downward spiral he had been found in. 

See, the weeks after receiving the lantern were spent reflecting. He refused to call it “moping” because that sounded like something a child would do, and he had childhood ripped from his clinging grasp. Something he wanted to get rid of so desperately until the moment it was taken. This being one of the many things he considered. He nearly tried to go back and find some of the people who helped him before, but then Greg was with him, and why would anyone help him without the ball of sunshine that actually formed those relationships? He couldn’t bear their rejection on top of everything else. Rejection guaranteed even if not for the loss of his brother. The sight of the evil thing in his hands would be enough to persuade anyone who knew of it. It was at this point that he searched for companionship, for understanding in stories he had forgotten to remember until then. So desperately he wished to find someone to relate to in his agony that certain myths came crawling back to the front of his mind. Myths he now may have even believed in because if he still isn’t dreaming then surely they might have also happened? The truth is stories often have a bias towards one side. The Greeks often favor the gods over titans, but after becoming Atlas himself Wirt couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. He had never bothered to understand the titan's side of the story before, but oh boy did he consider it then. Someone daring to fight the immoral current leader and then being punished with a fate far, far worse than mere death? Yeah he could understand that. It gave him a bit of comfort. To feel understood is really a miraculous thing when one feels truly alone.

The thought brings him back to the present. He isn’t alone anymore, not with the inquisitive boy sitting across from him. The one he probably should have taken home by now, but he isn’t about to let his first true companion in who knows how long leave just like that. Not when he doesn’t seem to want to anyway. The boy is an enigma to be sure. Someone obsessed enough with the supernatural to be able to look at something like him, to witness his darker moments and barely even flinch. It stirs a feeling of sympathy. One can only be okay with something like that if they’ve seen worse and the truth and conviction behind the phrase “this isn’t the scariest thing I’ve seen this week” nearly scares Wirt more than he scares himself.

What could this kid have seen in the real world — that simple confirmation that reality,  **his** reality really exists drags him to the brink of tears every time he thinks about it — to make him steady in the face of something that broke himself not so long ago? He wants to pry for answers and understand, but he won’t. Not when he can’t even bring himself to speak about the true gravity of what he’s lost. Not when his answers were simple and strictly factual. Not when he knows that if Dipper had pressed on when he said “I’d rather not talk about it” when questioned about his life before all of this he would have broken. Shattered.

That’s the important thing, really. Wirt isn’t stupid or in denial. He knows what he is, what he’s becoming. He accepts it, but he fears it just the same. His psyche is a vase carelessly thrown off a table that’s been subsequently taped together with old adhesive from forgotten gifts. The tape itself is worn, old, flimsy,  _ temporary  _ and when it comes apart the glass will return to its true state as is meant to be. Issue being that the glass will have to go somewhere and anyone who ventures near will be cut. Their blood pooling underneath what caused it in a sort of mockery that the glass may or may not deserve. The glass made the cut, sure, but it is only doing so as a consequence of what it was forced to become. 

Coming back to his makeshift home makes a flame light within himself that he had thought gone forever. This kid in a couple of days had given him the reminder of a normal existence that he needed to make a decision, an important one, but it was really the conversation after all the scientific investigation that got to him. They built a fire even though neither of them were cold. A fact that fascinated Dipper to no end and Wirt explained with a shrug and resignation. The conversation plays itself in his memory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper puts the journal down and stares intently into the flames. They sat for a while before he decided to speak and the apprehension slowly inching its way into his limbs made Wirt’s muscles mirror the tension. “Who did you want to be before all of this?”

Wirt shifts under the intense stare now directed at him rather than the flame. “What do you mean?”

“I  _ mean  _ I know you wanted to write poetry and stuff, but what was your goal? What kind of person did you want to be?” At Wirt’s silence and pained look he sighs and starts tending the fire with a nearby stick before continuing, “I study the supernatural, but it’s because I want to understand and keep things like that safe.” He pokes Wirt with the lit stick which still can’t bring even a flicker of warmth. “You have to have had a reason for what you wanted to do and it may be something you can still do here, just not in the way you had planned. Might give you a reason to keep going, to listen to those trees, to find something about this place that you can enjoy.” 

In his stunned silence the only thing Wirt can think to say is the words that have become his default thought at this point. “I shouldn’t enjoy hurting people.”

Dipper frowns. “You don’t have to hurt them. You said yourself that they wanted to be freed, so you’re just helping them out.”

Wirt scoffs. “Yeah, because I’m sure looking at the personification of lost hope while being cut up and used to fuel a lantern is way better than being a tree. You’re right, why would I have any reservations?”

“They asked you to first off, and secondly that’s not your decision to make, it’s theirs.”

The area is silent save for the crackling of the fire as Wirt thinks it over. 

“You really think it’s true? That their spirit is freed or whatever? How do we know I’m not being tricked by the lantern into something terrible? How do we know this isn’t how the one before me started out? A few whispers, some weird nightmares, and next thing you know you’re a murderer!” His voice cracks on the last word and he realizes there are tears slowly rolling down his face.

“There doesn’t seem to be any sort of sentience in the lantern itself. This isn’t Master of the Circlets. It’s not calling out to you with some plea of feeding you is it?”

He rolls his eyes at the jab knowing he never should have mentioned that he was a fan of those books. “No of course not, but I don’t want to trust it in case it is!”

“Normally I would 100% agree, but in this case it could kill you and they’re  _ trees _ Wirt! I’m not asking you to make any more trees because your concerns are valid and we need to do more research. What I’m asking is that you get firewood like a normal person to light your dumb lantern.” The kid runs a hand down his face in a decidedly non-kidlike manner and sighs. “The only difference between that and the fire in front of us is that the wood we got for this one didn’t explicitly ask to be burned.”

Wirt bites his lip and thinks for a moment. On one hand he’s right, but on the other hand he doesn’t want to even consider giving in to something that even had a one percent chance of being similar to the beast, not after his recent nightmares, and not while knowing that even a tip in the wrong direction could cause him to spiral, but it does make sense. If it does end up being true then maybe he can still be something good after all. Maybe rather than being damned for eternity he’s been given an opportunity to fix a system that was broken by a cruel, power-hungry predecessor.

Wirt wipes away the tear and cringes while looking at the inky black smeared on his hand before returning his attention to Dipper who avoids his gaze, barely hiding his curiosity at the coloring. There’s still one thing really bothering him. “Why help me? I mean obviously I’m your only ticket home, but this would be getting a potentially very dangerous entity to be more powerful which seems like the opposite of what you usually do.”

Dipper shrugs. “I don’t think you’re dangerous.” He holds up a hand at Wirt’s immediate protest. “Dangerous means something like ‘likely to cause harm’ and you aren’t that. You aren’t the only malevolently inclined creature I've met who didn’t want to hurt people. It’s more common than you may think and they learn to adapt so I figure you can too. Not that you even really seem to need adapting. Plus, it’s my job to help all things weird and supernatural, remember? And a half tree, half reindeer boy definitely fits ‘supernatural.’”

Wirt laughs more genuinely than he can remember doing in a  _ while _ and they talk lightly about novels until falling asleep sometime near dawn. The fire long since put out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He watches Dipper place his journals down after recording a few more notes and walks over, ready to begin making new art from the shattered pieces of his previous life.


	8. Angst station: let's get this ball rolling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper leaves and comes back, Wirt is well uh I mean he just has a real bad time, but what else is new? I promise to stop hurting him soon I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this contains the first scene I ever wrote for this fic. It was actually largely based around this, and, well I stopped being a coward about doing a timeskip, and just did it, so here it is!

It was… upsettingly easy to plan. Find some eldelwood, grind it into oil using the remains of the grinding mechanism left over from the woodsman, and, finally, place that oil into the lantern. It almost made him wonder why it had taken so long to do something so simple, but then he thought about the people, the  _ souls _ behind the liquid and self revulsion nearly caused him to call the whole thing off, but Dipper stayed his hand. Literally, in fact. 

They accomplished all of it in a little less than a day, and after he wasn’t just drained, Wirt could feel a sort of buzzing in the back of his senses that turned out to be a portal back. Dipper said goodbye, they shook hands with the promise to try meeting up again some other time, and he stepped through the portal and that seemed to be that. 

Dipper was gone. It was done, over.. Leaving Wirt alone once again. 

Time came and went. A few more days passed. Days spent coaxing all the trees left over from  _ before _ into oil just so he could stop hearing those voices all the time. They eventually silenced and what felt like mere days he knew had to be something more like years with how many there were. 

The oil eventually started to get lower, and lower, and more empty, and he could feel it. Oh, it took a long time, but the lantern was soon empty and he felt cold in every atom of his body. It became hard to move at all, and being around any of the lost souls made him lurch towards them, branches and vines twisting their way in the forest. He had the strangest urge to recite something, but forced himself to run away instead. He wouldn’t create new trees, that wasn’t the deal. He’d said he would take out and free the trapped souls and he did. It was blissfully silent once more inside his mind, but sometimes he fancied hearing echoes. Voices calling to him to make more oil, but it had to be the lantern it couldn’t be anymore. He'd already done his job, so he decided to simply wait. To curl up against a tree cold and alone knowing he did the right thing. The unknown would finally be free of the beast. 

He can relax

Fall asleep

And not

Wake

Up...

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wirt is startled awake by a presence. He really just wants to die in peace, but the past several hours had been made up of restless nightmares. All foreshadowing his now imminent demise. 

He wonders what the end would even mean for someone who had been denied the afterlife? Is he about to be freed from his curse or thrust into something much darker? He has no way of knowing and is in too much pain to dwell on it much, for now, anyway. It’s too cold.

His insides are ice, no, not even that. It’s more akin to the cold sting of betrayal, something less tangible and more agonizing. It permeates every single molecule of his body that’s simultaneously too weak to move while acutely hyper-aware of everything around him. 

Every single “living” being within the forest that can give him what he needs is like a blinding light against the vast darkness of his mind. The dissonance from knowing what to do, having the power to do it, and refusing is excruciating. He thought it made him a hero, but as the dream had reminded him, maybe the fact that he had to fight it at all meant he was already damned with no road to redemption.

Even so, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He would at least be able to make a case for not wanting any part of this, for having this need and ignoring it to save the Unknown. The good could cancel out the bad. He would be protecting them from a beast who only seeks to consume people for power. 

It was during these musings that he was both having and too hurt to possibly experience that he felt the presence. More accurately, the lantern detected it as it cried out for him to remove whoever  _ dared  _ interrupt his dying and use them to make it stop.  _ please make the pain go away. Dying should be faster. There hasn’t been any oil for  _ **_days_ ** _ and yet I’m still here on the ground like the universe itself wants to watch me suffer for entertainment. Fix it.  _

The kid was either unaware of the creature he had found or was too desperate to care. It had to be the latter as Wirt could just  _ taste _ their desperation from where he was. All he could think was how they would keep the lantern lit for a long time, but was immediately disgusted at the thought just as it stirred a tiny flicker of  _ want _ in his soul. Against his better judgement and morals that flame brightened the tiniest fraction for the first time in at least a month and his body briefly warmed. Just enough to make him ache with longing to feel it again.

“Hello? You are the one that helps the kids home, right? I’ve been looking for you. I need help. I just want to go home. I'm so lost.” There was a sniffing sound accompanied by a scratch of fabric on skin and Wirt knew the kid was crying.

This was a kid that needed his help. Surely he could help one more person before he died? One more check on his “Listen I tried my best” list of reasons why he shouldn’t burn in hell for eternity. 

Wirt stood up with more effort than it had ever taken any living creature to stand, he was sure of it, and nearly fell with the added weight of the branches extending from his temples. He clutched the lantern tightly to his chest hoping for any sort of warmth it would provide akin to that from earlier and he was disappointed as usual with its temperature being the same as his own. 

“Yeah I’ll help you. Just keep a few feet away okay? I don’t feel… great.” His voice sounded like rocks scraping across sandpaper from disuse and he thought maybe from screaming? He was fairly certain he had been screaming recently? Probably? When the pain was too much to bear for a while. 

He started leading the kid to where he thought the portal might be. Knowing where the portals were was not an exact science, and could take a bit like with Dipper, but he thought he could already feel a certain pulling sensation.

As they walked the sensation got a little stronger and the hair on the back of Wirt’s neck stood on end. That had never happened before, he turned back to check on the kid who seemed unnaturally calm now and noticed their tears had vanished. Every other person had been scared of him. Scared of his appearance and generally uncomforting demeanor, it wasn’t like he  _ tried _ to freak anyone out, but a cloak made of living shadow coupled with the glow-y eyes and freakish height will do that regardless of his endless statements of “It’s gonna be okay, probably? Yeah it’ll be fine don’t worry.” 

He starts walking a bit faster hoping to just get the kid home and put everything behind him so he could go back to his chosen tree to die in peace, well as much as he could while being in excruciating pain that had become so familiar at this point he couldn’t remember what it felt like to  _ not _ hurt. 

They enter into a clearing and find that there’s no portal at all, just a single lit flame surrounded by trees. As he approaches the flame, the kid darts away from him to the other side of the clearing just as around fifteen people come out of that area and towards him holding various sharp objects and torches. Wirt instantly backs away, body shaking with hands held in front of him. 

“Look guys I know what this looks like but they asked me to help them home. All I was doing was trying to get them to a portal. I wasn’t going to hurt them, I promise.” 

The human at the front of the advancing group laughs. “Oh we know,  _ beast _ .” The word comes from his lips dripping with venom and disdain. “We knew you’d never refuse fresh meat for that lantern of yours and now we have come to make sure no one ever gets captured again.” 

Wirt is frozen in fear for a second at the words and that’s all the people need to close the distance and attack. He feels the first few knives break skin and there’s the sensation of a cold, thick liquid oozing down his arms and torso that he knows is his blood, but the ice cold coming from  _ inside  _ of him is so disorienting he nearly throws up. 

The world around him seems to slow down and blur as he goes dizzy from the blood loss. Way quicker than should have been possible. The lantern is empty, but he didn’t even get to die protecting everyone from his nature, no, that had to be stripped from him too. He wouldn’t even get the satisfaction of knowing he died for a good cause so that people could be safe. He would die at the hands of a group of insane villagers with a murder agenda hellbent on erasing someone they didn’t even have any reason to fear in the first place. Someone who was trying to choose death rather than hurt a single one of them, but he had to be interrupted. He couldn't be left alone for  _ five more minutes _ while dying. Anger consumes him. Anger about his situation, about losing everyone he cared about, about being stripped of the ability to choose how he goes out. The universe has other plans? Well so does he. 

The thoughts break something inside of him and for several minutes there is nothing going on in his brain except for blind rage mixed with an unprecedented amount of sorrow and pain that blur like radio static. After everything he’d been through, Wirt was  _ not  _ going to die like this. A loud “whoosh” filled the air around him and too many things happened at once. 

The sensation of sharp objects being thrust into his skin was gone, the clearing was once again quiet instead of filled with his screams and shouting of the attackers. Not even a second later he’s filled with a feeling of warmth and it is so blindingly  _ perfect  _ and  _ right  _ he doesn’t register what it must mean until he opens his eyes several minutes later. 

His wounds have all been healed in a matter of seconds and he feels stronger than ever before. The clearing is empty and his brow furrows in confusion for a second… 

“NO. No no no no no no no no no. It’s not. They can’t. There aren’t any-” Wirt scrambles to pull out the lantern which, as he had feared, is now glowing blindingly bright and full of oil. It is so full, in fact, that it spills out over the compartment and onto his fingers. 

His voice crescendos from a whisper to frantic shouting. “What did I do? What? How? I couldn’t have- There’s no way I- There aren’t any trees here-” And yet there the lantern was, glowing brightly, and there  _ he  _ was, devoid of pain. 

He rubbed his eyes and pinched himself waiting to wake up from this. It had to be one of his many, many nightmares of filling the lantern but it was all in vain. Tears start to fall from his eyes and he feels the warm feeling throughout his body grow steadily. It grows warmer and warmer and hotter and hotter until he’s not crying anymore he’s sweating and then in a few more seconds burns appear all over his body. 

The burns eventually stopped, but his skin was getting softer and he relaxed a fraction until he realized it’s melting. He’s melting, somehow, without pain, without anything other than feeling a bit warm like on a particularly hot summer day. He only has a few more moments before realizing he has to get  _ out  _ he  doesn’t know how or where but he needs to go  _ now _ . He wanted to live, so without even knowing he was doing it, he opened a portal using the now massive stores of energy within the lantern swearing he feels the heat lower a degree or two as he does so. Wirt stumbles out of the other side of the portal inside the Mystery Shack attic, unknown to him, in front of a very confused and shocked Dipper who falls with his books from levitating position above the floor who goes to Wirt as fast as possible. 

“Dude! You’re that guy from years ago- Wait, what the hell happened?” 

Wirt is only able to mutter out a “too much oil” before he blacks out.


End file.
